A Hard Days Night

I just needed a sweet picture of my baby girl at the top of my blog today. Yesterday was a hard day. We had what I hope will be our final interview with officials about Camille's death.  This time it was Child Protection Services.  I had to walk the guy through the last hour before I found Camille and the hour just after. I made it through the interview alright but reliving that experience again for him stirred the storm of sorrow within.

When the night came, the winds picked up.  I heard them howling loudly outside as they whipped mercilessly around our house. I felt their fury in my soul as I struggled to find a shelter within. In the darkness of the night with the humidity swelling the doors and sticking them to their frames, I felt the swelling of my sorrow as the tears fell lifeless on my pillow. 

Sometimes, it is best to put off the sorrow and give in the exhaustion it brings. Sleep is sometimes our greatest inner shelter. In it we can find healing. I wish I were gifted with the ability to fall asleep quickly and easily. The storms kept me up last night. Irrational fears flashed like lightening in my mind waking me just before I could fully embrace the safety of unconsciousness. 

I considered taking a sleeping pill to aid me in my quest for relief, but then, in my next attempt, the exhaustion overcame the storm within and I slept, soundly. 

The winds are lighter this morning but the damage they caused is present and there is cleaning up to do. There are memories to put back in their place. There are questions to sweep away. There are concerns to rationalize into their proper order. There is work to be done.

God's house is a house of order and I must put order back in mine.

Blame

Someone asked in a comment about if I ever blame myself. I decided to answer that question because I know people well enough to know that most people want to know the answer to it even if they do not ask. Also, and more importantly, I hope my answer will help someone out there in similar shoes to mine.

Let me start with a story. It may not even be a true story. But it is a story I had heard third hand some years ago that inspired me. Years ago there was a man in my parents ward who went on a scout trip with my brothers and father. The story goes that he had in his youth been out hunting with his dad (or some other activity that included a gun) and that the gun he was holding misfired and the shot fired hit and killed his dad. So on this scout trip with my brothers someone asks this man how he was able to grow up normal and well adjusted after such an event and did he ever feel like he was responsible. His answer was no. He knew it was his dad's time to go and the gun in his hand was just a tool the Lord used to take him.

Okay so I don't know if that is a true story or not but hearing that years ago I thought, "Wow. That is so wise and true. What an incredible person to see it like that." Since hearing that story I have heard my fair share of babies drowning or accidentally dying stories and thought each time, "Gee I hope that mother can see this accident the way that man did and know that it was not her fault. You would just have to see it that way or how would you live?"

Then June 13th rolled around. Suddenly, I was that mother.  

There has never been any blame throwing in our house. I can only speak for myself in saying that there was a fight between my head and my heart about blaming myself. My head told me to be that guy. Whether the story is true or not, his response in the story was the right response, it is the true response. But, alas, I am human. And I am a mother. My mother instincts cried in agony and grief and regret that I did not better protect my child. It was a bitter duel.

I felt the sweet peaceful whisperings of the Spirit telling me that this was known to the Lord, that He knew this was coming before it happened. I had even dreamt it the night before, but I awoke with no recollection of the dream until I saw her in the spa. 

I have often said that it is a miracle any child reaches adulthood for all the accidents that can happen.  I have seen the Lord miraculously save each of my children's lives through promptings of the Spirit and sheer miracle. I really believe that the Lord helps us raise our children and helps us watch them even when we can't. This day, however, there was a total silence in the minutes before I found her.  There was no thought, no prompting, no feeling of an unsettled nature. Just silence.  

Now I may not have been at a spiritual high when this happened (a regret I had to do some repenting of in the hospital). I had been on vacation for 2 weeks prior and had slipped out of the habit of family scripture study. But, I was living worthy of the Spirit and so was my husband. Both of us were home and neither of us felt any warning voice. 

I believe I had that dream and remembered it when I saw her as the Lord's way of telling me that He knew this would happen and it was in His plan.  I felt very peaceful in the hospital once we accepted that she was not going to live. I felt like that was the will of the Lord. I felt like it was her time to go and that the spa was only a tool. Still, I wanted to KNOW it. 

I wanted an angel to appear with the message that it was her time and if it hadn't been the spa it would have been something else and possibly something worse. There are so many worse ways to die than drowning. I felt that was true but I wanted to know it.  I didn't even care who the angel was or to whom they appeared.  I just wanted to hear it from a divine source and know it with a sure knowledge.

As far as I know, no one has seen any angels with this message to give to me. But I don't feel like I really need it anymore. Other equally reliable spiritual experiences over the last couple of weeks have let me know that this was no surprise to the Lord. He could easily have prevented it and He didn't.  I know that Camille's death is serving His greater purpose. Most importantly, I know that I am clean before Him. And that is all that really matters. 

So, no, I do not blame myself or anyone else. But it was a struggle to let go of my so human mother instincts of regret and "if only." I hope in relating this that someone out there who may be holding on to blame for an accident will let it go. I hope we all can come to know that, no matter the circumstances, the Atonement can allow us to be clean before the Lord through repentance. I hope we all can realize that being clean and acceptable before the Lord really is all that matters.

Socratic Method

I had to post this today because I just thought it was so awesome.  So today we are getting a double scoop. :)

So my little 5 year old Ann Marie is incredibly bright. I have known she was bright from a very early age. I don't mean she is just able to memorize things easily. I mean she is able to put things together in her mind very quickly. I mean she taught herself how to read after I taught her the letter and sounds kind of bright. Now she reads chapter books. She has a very logical mind with an above average dose of common sense. This makes her a challenge to parent because she is just too smart to fall for many parenting techniques.

I remember once she was being naughty when she was about 18 months to 2 years old.  I told her to do something several times and she wasn't doing it.  I told her again more frustratedly and she turned to me and yelled "NO!" That was it for me.  No kid of mine was going to scream at me like that.  My face changed to that "oh no just didn't look," you know that Mad Mama look that we can get to let kids know they have crossed the line.  I do a good one and boy it came out right then. Suddenly, Annie's expression changed from one of defiance to one of calculating caution.  Then she put her hands both up in front of her, palms facing me and said in her little tiny girl voice "Mama, take a deep bweth." Of course I burst out laughing at this. 

Anyway, so today Annie and Lauren were arguing or debating about the emblem on Lauren's bathing suit.  You can see it in the picture above.  Lauren was calling it a sun and Ann was trying to correct her and let her know it was a flower.

So the dialogue goes thusly:

Annie: It is a flower

Lauren: NO It is a sun!

Annie: No Lauren it is a flower.

Lauren: NO IT IS A SUN!

Annie: Lauren, do suns have leaves?

Lauren: No.

Annie: See these green things on your suit? What are they? See they are leaves. 

Lauren: silent and looking at the leaves.

Annie: So it is a flower because flowers have leaves.

Lauren: ... thinking ... NO ... IT IS A SUN!

Mama: Maybe it is a sunflower.  

Lauren: Yes it is a SUN flower.

Okay what I LOVE about this is that my five year old just used a law school teaching technique called the Socratic method. It is a method of teaching by asking questions to help people realize your point by themselves. I just think that is awesome.  My little loving Ann Marie is AWESOME!

Comments

Okay, first I want to make it clear that I read every comment, sometimes several times over.  Actually, comments are the highlights of my days right now. I particularly gain strength from those comments that express how reading my blog has helped someone who is grieving for any reason. I also love the comments of those who feel a change in themselves after reading the blog. I LOVE knowing that people are holding their little one longer and cherishing them a little more.

I particularly love these types of comments because they give purpose and meaning to my daughter's life.  Her life was so short. Her mission was simple. She came to learn.  She came to love and be loved. She died to inspire. These comments let me know that the third part of her mission is being fulfilled beyond the walls of our home. The fact that people she never would have met in her life on this earth are inspired by the writings she has inspired with her death gives purpose to tragedy.

I particularly loved the first comment on my blank pages post.  :) That is why I married that incredible guy. He just makes me laugh.

For those of you struggling in the "blank pages," I highly recommend that recipe from Luke 2:52.  Force yourself to do something Physical (workout), Spiritual (pray, ponder and study scriptures), Mental (write or read some or exercise your brain), and Social (serve others or just get out and be with people) EVERYDAY.  It is what the Savior did and if you do it everyday it will make you happier.  It is the only way I know to claw out of the pit of sorrow.  Yesterday I had been down all day and done the social thing and the spiritual thing.  Writing that post, my mental thing, lifted me a little. Working out lifted me out of the gloom and then getting such great comments, especially the first one, and a load of wonderful mail just really helped me find joy.

Thanks for the mail, by the way.  My girls have loved the "happy mail" they have gotten and they are still opening pictures from yesterday's package from Palo Alto.  Thanks Nancy and the primary kids. Jon and I appreciate the love coming through the postal system too.  We are touched by the sentiments expressed and the many contributions to charities in Camille's name.  We know how much good and how many lives of babies are saved through the Humanitarian Fund.  We have seen it first hand in the two Humanitarian Services missions my parents have served.  THANK YOU!!!

Okay I have to go take care of kids now.  Sending out love to all you who comment and those who just read too.  I will post later today about Annie and the Socratic method.  Just no time to do it now.

P.S. Hope to see you SYTYCD fans at my house tonight @ 8:30 PM

Blank Page Day

I am a fan of the Twilight Series of books by Stephenie Meyer.  My favorite of the three books is the second book.  I know for most of my friends this is their least favorite book. But I feel like I lived that book. I was in love with a perfect guy. Our relationship was to the point of getting married or breaking up and even though we were both still in love, we just both knew that we were not meant to be together. So suddenly we broke up.

Perhaps my favorite part of that book is right after Bella and Edward break up.  There are several blank pages. Reading that book for the first time I thought "brilliant!" That is exactly what it feels like to break up with someone with whom you are in love. She went on to so accurately describe the ensuing emotions. 

Sometimes life feels like that -- turning blank pages. Today it feels like that. 

I know the recipe for getting out of this pit. Do something mental, spiritual, social, and physical everyday. I am working on those.  I have done all but the last and am headed for pilates in 10 minutes.  Still, it is still like blank pages today, going through the motions- "pretending to be normal" as another grieving mom put it.  Bella did that too - pretend to be normal.

Back after that break up so many years ago, I remember praying to at least meet the man I would marry, even if it wasn't time for us to marry yet, so that I would really know him when we did marry. That summer I met my Jacob -- Jonathan. We became great friends and he helped me through those dark days of blank turning pages. He became the main character in the story of my life as my best friend. 

Here is where my story differs from Bella's. When I had the opportunity to get back together with the old boyfriend, I realized that my feelings for Jonathan were stronger than I thought.  I preferred to be with Jonathan.  Jon didn't even like me as more than a friend, but still I preferred to be with him. Needless to say, the old flame and I did not get back together.  We both knew it still was not right and he ended up getting engaged about 6 weeks later to another lovely girl. I had them over for dinner and met her. She was perfect for him-far better for him than I ever would have been. I was happy for him to have found her.

My story took more patience.  The Lord answered my prayer and let me meet Jon that summer but the time was not right for me to marry yet.  A couple of years of friendship later, the Lord turned Jonathan's heart to me.  Eight long distance months later, we were married.

It is now Jonathan who is again wading through these blank pages with me. He knows my pain and feels it with me, but he still can make me smile.  I still prefer to be with him to anyone else. He is still my best friend and so much more. He is the only one who can reach me in these pages of silence and draw me out of the blank and into the light. How grateful I am to have been led to love the perfect man for me. 

Perspective

This is my world right now--zoomed in close, agonizing over the details. The details--be they beautiful or boring, painful or pleasant--the details are our everything. We wake in the morning with them staring us in the face and we lay our heads on our pillows at night either basking in their fullness or formulating how to survive or change them. I have heard Oprah say "love is in the details."  And so it is.  Perhaps that is why the details, the moments of life that you never forget and that form your very being, consume our constant focus. They are crucial.

There is beauty in the details--even the painful ones. It is a beauty born of love. Like mental photographs the details tell a story. These stories form the epic that is our lives. Even these epic stories of our lives are just the details, the footnotes even, in the history books of mankind. One can only imagine how our histories fit into the great scheme of the Creator's works.

Details produce the defining points of our lives.  This is one of the great defining points in my life. I write the story that will define me by how I endure the trials I face.  These are not easy days.  This story is difficult to forge.  But I believe that if I am careful and I can keep a firm mind and a heart full of love, even if it is an aching love, a thing a great beauty will emerge from these details.

Whatever our trials are in life, the gospel gives us the gift of perspective to guide us in our sorrow and affliction.  In the grand scheme of my life, this will be but a chapter.  It is hard for me to imagine a day I don't think about Camille with every breath, but I know in my head that will come. Part of me is terrified for that day to come. The better part of me refuses to live forever in this chapter. This chapter will form the rest of my story, but I hope that by the 500th page of my 1000 page life I am not still mourning the event of this too early, too sorrowful chapter of my life.

I can only hope the pain of this detail will make all the colors brighter, all the laughter heartier, all the love deeper, all the moments sweeter.  I can only hope that this defining detail will significantly impact the whole of the eternal perspective of my life for the positive. That by enduring well the Lord can make of my life a work of art.

Calling All Angels

This is the photo we choose to be on Camille's grave.  Man I miss that little face, that sweet smile, her laugh, her kisses, the way she loved to tuck her head under my chin, the little bit of chunk on her thigh that I used to pat, the annoying half scream half yell she would let out when she was frustrated. I miss it all. I just miss her. 

My sister in law Elizabeth shared this song with me. It is by Jessie Clark Funk. It pretty much hit the spot.  I put it to a video/slideshow. Give it a listen.

Sugar High

Lauren sneaking a finger of chocolate mousse cake.

There are few things that truly make me giddy.  Beautiful and delicious desserts can do that.  I love food.  I especially love sweets.  I have been known to drive 40 minutes to 2 hours for a special favorite dessert.  

Imagine my delight when about 8 months ago, a business associate of my husband's introduced us to Chris Herin.  Chris is the pastry chef for the Bouchon Bakery in the Venetian Hotel.  The night we met he spoiled the three of us with about 12 desserts at our little table and a tour of the kitchen and bakery. On top of this, he was just a down to earth, generous, open and friendly guy.  He is about our age and lives in the same part of town as we did. I knew anyone who could make such beautiful and delicious desserts needed to be my friend.  

We have been back to the Bouchon several times since and every time we are treated to wonderful food and excellent service.  I highly recommend the roasted chicken and all the desserts.  Actually everything on the menu is great.  Next time you are in Vegas and want an excellent meal in a casual bistro atmosphere, go try the Bouchon Bistro.  

Yesterday Chris came to my parents house for an old fashioned backyard 4th of July BBQ.  My parents had my family and Jon's sister Marleen's family over as well.  We had ribs, salmon, salad, beans, potato salad, deviled eggs, homemade ice cream and Chris brought a few desserts. Okay, Chris brought a lot of desserts.  They were beautiful and tasted as good as they looked. 

This cake is amazing.  It is made with the finest chocolate. It has layers of cake and mousse.

Strawberry shortcake--and yes it tastes as good as it looks.

These chocolate Bouchons are like little rich dark chocolate brownies with chocolate chips inside.  Topped with powdered sugar and a little ball of homemade ice cream  ... yeah, that is my kind of dessert.  They smelled so good when I opened the box that one of them somehow mysteriously disappeared. Shhh, don't tell. You can see where Lauren gets her sneaky love of sweets, can't you? 

Here we are cutting the apple pie. I have to say this photo does not accurately portray the size of this dessert.  It had an almond cake crust on the bottom that really set off the gentle sweetness of the apples.

Here is Chris holding one of the creations he brought. Thanks Chris!

I am still riding my sugar high from last night.  I had a little piece of every dessert and an extra bite of the chocolate ones for my little chocolate fiend that no doubt had her mouth watering in heaven. 

At home we watched fireworks from my bedroom balcony and did smaller ones with the neighbors out front. We shared the leftovers with the neighbors and my friend Catherine's family, who are all in town for a reunion.  

Fireworks from my balcony.

All in all it was a good day--a happy day.  A day of old and new traditions, family and friends. It is good to know there can still be happy days and sugar highs. 

*photos by my sister in law Marleen Gunnerson

Created Equal

Today we celebrate the Declaration of Independence.  In 1776, Thomas Jefferson, wrote a now famous document boldly declaring that it was a self-evident truth that all men are created equal. This was an inspired statement.  All of us on this earth are children of our Heavenly Father.  We are all equally loved by Him and equally watched over.  We all have equal rights to choose our beliefs and how we will react to the circumstances we face.  We all have equal opportunity to seek Him out and find Him and feel Him in our lives.  We are all brothers and sisters.

Brothers and Sisters--I have three brothers and one sister.  I LOVE my brothers.  But today I want to focus on my sisters.  Growing up, I lived across the street from a family of 7 girls. I always wished I had more sisters in my life.  I idolized my older sister but with a five year age gap, we did not get along very well growing up and she was off to college when I was in middle school.  I wanted more sisters.

This experience has given me a greater appreciation, a greater and renewed love, and deep soul linking bond with my one sister Lesli.  She has been a rock of literal strength for me through this.  I was pretty much a puddle on the ground at the hospital that first day.  I think the whole hospital could hear my grief.  My sister dropped everything (which was a night away with her husband at the Ritz) and came to me as soon as she heard.  She arrived that night and walked into the consolation room where I was sitting with my head buried in my hands.

I don't really understand the physics of what happened next.  She stood in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders.  She was bent over like I was and we both had our heads down.  As she did this, a power flowed through my body, a strength.  It was a physical sensation.  It was as if her strength of being came into me.  My sister is a very strong woman.  I have never been so grateful for that attribute of her as I was at that moment.  There was no judgement or mental analyzing. No this was the strength of a sister's Love. And it was powerful beyond description.   

My sister Lesli and I in my backyard a few days after Camille died.

I look at my family now thinking of those days wishing I had more sisters, and feel so blessed. When I got married I gained 6 new sisters.  Jon has four sisters and four brothers.  Two of his brothers are married.  The beauty of this is that I love, yes I mean love, all of these women. They are beautiful, talented women. I feel so blessed to have so many wonderful sisters in the Waite family.  How convenient that they have such an incredible, handsome, worthy, and humorous brother for me to love and marry.

The Waite Family at Camille's grave.

Shortly after Jon and I got married, 3 of my other siblings got married.  Then last October my youngest brother got married too, completing our generation's family circle.  This gives me three more sister in laws on my side of the family. Again the beauty in this is that my brother's all made awesome choices in selecting their mates.  All three of my sister in laws are about 3 years younger than me.  I am close to each of them.  They are some of my best friends and they are my sisters.

The Harris Family at Camille's Graveside.

But I have been blessed with more sisters in my family than just this.  Like I said, we are all brothers and sisters.  We are all created equal.  I have four daughters. I am their mother but they are also my sisters. I have been very aware of this fact from the moment I arrived at the hospital. I knew Camille was there but she was not in that little baby body on the bed.  She was there as a spirit and her spirit was not a baby.  I felt her as a fully mature adult woman. I felt her as my sister. I felt her as my friend. I felt her as a pure, clean, glorious example of what I want to become.

I look forward to the day when I can be with her again as a sister, a daughter, a friend, an equal.

I love you Camille!

Scattered Thoughts On A Day of Low to High

Ups and Downs.  My life feels so full of them right now.  I started the day with a solid 5 minutes of breaking down in sorrow in my closet.  I let the grief flow through me, crying audibly in my solitude.  After about 5 minutes, not nearly enough time to fully release my sorrow, I forced myself to dry my eyes, put on my clothes and go get Sabrina ready for school.  

We read scriptures, said prayers, ate breakfast and got ready for school.  Once Sabrina was off, and after a few other morning tasks, I headed to my mother's to see my brother and his wife who were passing though town on the way to the cabin.  

Driving is hard for me these days.  In the car it is quiet.  Too quiet.  There are few distractions to keep my mind occupied.  In the car, I think.  Lately that can be a dangerous past time.  I didn't get far before the thoughts turned to tears.  Luckily, my car is well stocked with Kleenex. (I think I should have Jon invest in that stock.)  

I managed to pull myself back together by the time we arrived at my mothers.  It is easier to be cheerful with my family around.  

I took Nikki, my sister in law, with me to the funeral home to pick out the name place details for Camille's grave.  I am still deciding which picture to use.  I made it through that pretty well. Next a family friend came to talk about helping my kids through the grief process, she is a counselor with LDS family services.  Pretty much cried when I talked through that.  I have been worried about my kids.

I did another errand with my dad after that and then was glad to be headed back home.  I still feel best at home.  It is where she was the most.  My mom's is not too bad since we lived there with Camille for the first 8 months of her life.  I feel most safe in places with which she was most familiar.  I don't know why that is.  I just feel her presence stronger in those places.

I came home to find that Jon had had an equally hard day.  We let our tears flow together for a few minutes and then the duties of the day called us back.  We had Sabrina's former first grade teacher over for dinner.  It was a fun visit for all of us.

After she left the neighbors came over and Jon and I took the two oldest girls (Lauren was already in bed asleep) outside to let them swim for a bit.  This was the first time we have been in the hot tub since the accident.  

One of my biggest fears early in this ordeal was about how this experience would change me.  I did not want to be that mother who is scared to let her kids live for fear of losing them.  But how can I not be that mother now that I have lost one?  I believe the answer is in careful determination.  I have been trying hard to force myself not to deny my children fun experiences while at the same time being doggedly cautious and watchful of them.  We have been swimming a few times now since the accident and I am surprised that it has not been harder for me.  Even the memory of finding her is fading slowly into the recesses of my mind.  

The kids had a great time and after we got the kids out and ready for bed.  We ended our day on a spiritual high.  A friend of mine, Catherine, had her father in town visiting.  Her father is Elder Whitney Clayton of the Presidency of the Seventy in our church.  He came to our home and visited with us and gave Jon and I and our two oldest daughters priesthood blessings.  

This day started so low and ended so high.  I know the Lord knows my family.  Elder Clayton does not know us but the blessings he gave were from One who does.  I particularly needed mine.  There were so many things he told me that I needed to hear and that only God could have known I needed to hear.

How grateful I am to have the priesthood restored on the earth today.  It is a blessing beyond measure in my life. I know the Lord put so many people in my life right now to help me through this and I have no doubt that my good friend Catherine is one of them.  Thank you to her and her family for letting their dad come spend a bit of time here with us to bless us.

Invested

My husband manages money.  He runs a hedge fund.  Jon runs his own shop with no vacation days or sick days.  He works from home.  He has been building this hedge fund for just over two years.  Before that he worked for an investment bank as a stock analyst. This job required lots of traveling.  My kids thought he worked on an airplane.  I often felt like a single mom.

When we prayed about whether to start the hedge fund, we felt that it would be VERY difficult. But we chose to do it because we wanted time with our Dado.  It has been hard.  It has been the most stressful job Jon has ever had.  He has done very well and we have been incredibly blessed in his business.  

Now, however, I can't help but be incredibly grateful to the Lord for inspiring us to do this so that Jon could be home with us so much.  Jon works a lot of hours, but because he is at home, he also gets to see so much of his girls.  They love their dado.  They love to visit him in his office.

On his stressful days, nothing could put a bright ray of sun in Jon's office like me putting Camille's head into his office and then pulling her out.  She would laugh and scream at this game of peek a boo.  

Investing sometimes takes patience and faith. It always involves sacrifice. You give up your money now and forgo using it on a thing or experience and put it away.  You invest it.  And you hope that by putting it away for later it will increase and grow and later you will be able to do more with it than you could have done using it today.  You give up something good now for something better later.  That is one definition of sacrificing.  Sacrificing is essentially investing.

I feel very invested now.  Invested in heaven. Invested in Camille.  It will take patience and faith but I know in the end I will get even more out of my experience as her mother later than I would now. Surly there is no safer investment than putting your assets with the Lord. This is the bright hope to which I cling--that when I am able to raise her I will be able to give her all the love and attention and affection that I am now longing to give her in her absence.  Here she had to share my attention with siblings and mundane stresses.  Later she will have the full attention of a host of loved ones all wanting to hold her and be with her.  Jon and I will be foremost among them, followed closely by her sisters. She will be showered with more love and attention than we could humanly give her at this time. And the pain we feel now will only make that time all the sweeter.

Hope. Faith. Patience.

We have laid our treasure up for more enjoyment on a later day.  

We are invested.  

I am invested.

Inside the Heart

One of the tulips at Camille's funeral.  It looks a little heart shaped don't you think?

"Oh Honey, I can't believe it has been more than a year since you have come for a massage," my mother-in-law's massage therapist says to me as I arrive for the massage she set up as a treat for me.  "Yes," I say.  Sometimes, when my emotions are close to the surface I find it easier to say as little as possible.

"Well we are going to have some work to do on you then," she says as we enter the massage room.  "So tell me, does it hurt anywhere or are you just here for relaxation?"

A simple daily question.  "Does it hurt anywhere?"  My insides scream "YES!  It hurts everywhere.  Especially this gaping whole in the middle of me where Camille is supposed to be clinging to me.  Is there a reflexology spot that will alleviate that pain?"  I pause taking a more physical assessment. 

"No, I am just here to ... relax," I conclude.  Relax.  Yes that word seems a bit foreign to me lately.  Pleasure ... Enjoyment ... Relaxation.  I am going to have to relearn to be friends with these words.  I am working on that.  I know Camille didn't want those things to leave me when she left.  I am working on it for her and for my family.  It is coming ... slowly.

I strip down and get under the sheet.  The music is soothing.  My massage therapist returns to the room and warms her hands and begins her rub down.  I am lying on my back and she is working on my head and face.  

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Her question echos in my mind.  I swing between ironic inner laughter and deep searing pain in response to each echo.  I struggle to keep my emotions in check.  She obviously knows nothing of the recent events in my life.

Her warm hands apply pressure to my forehead as two traitorous tears escape my stronghold and role slowly down my face as she massages and warms.  I consider telling her to excuse my emotions as I am prone to cry when I am relaxed lately.  As I consider this I feel the weight of the burden of my sorrow heavy on my chest.  It is too large a burden to pass casually to an unsuspecting stranger.  I keep my mouth closed determined not to allow anymore escapees.

"I see you are hydrating well.  What are you doing for exercise?" she asks.  

"Pilates," I reply. "Hydrating well," I think. "I guess that is one way to put it.  I am certainly producing plenty of hydration."  

I think of my older brother filling me a glass of water the week before and asking me if I was hydrating well.  "At least 4 big cups of water a day," he told me handing me a full glass.  He was worried about me.  So was I.  I took the water glad for the reminder to drink.  

Back in the massage room I think "you need to do better at that Stephanie.  With all the water going out you need to put more in."     

The massage continues and again I hear the echo, "does it hurt anywhere?"  I do another assessment.  There is not a single pain in my body.  I barely feel the pleasure of the massage. The storm of my emotions has receded and I feel the anesthetic numbness God provides us in times of shock.  It is a respite from the storm of emotions I deal with when I am faced with the reality of my loss.  

I await the sweet peace of acceptance in humility that follows these cycles. It always comes after the numbness.  In the numbness, I am able to gather my strength and seek the Lord.  In this almost out of body state, I feel the ministering of nearby angels and drink deeply from their wells of strength. I "hydrate." Then I am more able to reenter reality with an eternal perspective of acceptance and even joy.

Yes, joy.  Joy that I have children.  Joy that I was blessed to be Camille's mother.  Joy that I have a daughter working on our behalves beyond the veil.  Joy to know what good company she is in with wonderful ancestors.  Joy in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

In response to some comments...

Just a few notes here:

First, I welcome all visitors to my blog.  If you want to put links to my blog on your blog that is fine with me.  If you don't know me and want to post a comment, I welcome it. Comments are one of the highlights of my day lately. 

Those who know me, know I am a very open person (sometimes too open some might say) and I consider myself pretty honest.  I do not lie well.  I don't even exaggerate well. Exaggeration bothers me. I think the truth, even when it is boring, is better than an exaggerated story passed off as truth.  So if you were wondering how I can just put myself out there like this... well I guess it is just my nature.  Plus writing here everyday has been like therapy for me.  Writing has always been like therapy for me.

And yes I remember you Christie and Danielle and my other high school friends.  I can't believe how many old friends have found their way to this blog.  Thanks for your comments.

How do I believe in God when bad things happen? -- Hard not to believe in Him when you can feel His arms so fully wrapped around you.  I have corresponded with several other people of different faiths in my same situation and God has been there for all of them too.  God doesn't prevent broken hearts.  He heals them.

Yes we are on at my house at 8:30 this Wednesday for So You Think You Can Dance.  All are welcome that know me well enough to know where I live :).  

Thanks to all you out there listening, commenting, and living differently.  I love you all.

A Lasting Change

Lauren, my "lily," holding her flower from the Camille's casket spray

Today was my first morning not waking up thinking about Camille.  That is probably because I woke up to my husband telling me that I was needed to change Lauren's poopy underwear.  Somehow this takes precedence over grief in the human psyche.  It was a full 10 minutes before I thought of Camille.  

This kind of reminded me of 9/11.  I remember waking to my husband's phone call telling me that he was on his way home from work and to go turn on the TV.  Sabrina was 3 months old at the time.  I sat in front of the TV with her in my arms, my jaw open, tears streaming down my face.  I thought of all those mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters that went to work that day and just were not coming home.  Then, Sabrina made a mess in her diaper.  Here these people were dying as I was watching and I had to change a dirty diaper.  Dirty diapers do not stop just because tragedy occurs.  

I remember after 9/11 how close I felt to my neighbors.  How invested I felt in our nation.  It didn't matter what political party you were or where you stood on Health Care or Abortion.  We were truly ONE Nation.  There were flags everywhere.  People talked to each other more in the grocery store and on the street.  I loved that feeling and wished it would stay.  But human nature won out and here we are 7 years later divided again.

This tragedy in our family has had that same unifying effect.  My family, in particular, feels more unified that we ever have before. (I think the Waite family already felt unified).  We Harris crew, on the other hand, are a family of strong personalities and differing opinions and points of view.  We are not afraid to voice them.  We are also a family of deep emotions.  Many times our emotions run so deep we avoid facing them afraid of losing it.  In this situation, I did not know how my siblings would react. 

React they did.  They all dropped what they were doing and came to my side.  Within 24 hours all my siblings and all their spouses except one in Texas and all the local Waite family were gathered in our hospital room.  My siblings surrounded me in love and strength and faith. Bridges I thought had been burned were suddenly anchors of strength.  That unity has continued still.  

My sister giving me support at the graveside.

I felt an outpouring of love and unity in my church congregation.  I have felt that unity of love from the comments on this blog.  I have felt a greater sense of peace and purpose in our little family.  I have felt an increased love for all people.  I have a greater sensitivity to how we treat our fellow human beings. It has been a wonderful byproduct of terribly difficult time.  I want this to be a lasting change.  

I know our little family has experienced a lasting change.  Camille's absence is a daily reminder of this change.  I know I will be forever different.  But I want to keep the feeling of love I feel for all mankind in my heart.  I don't want to let the dirty diapers of life to distract me from my true purpose.  I want to keep the fires of love burning bright between my family members and friends.  I want the change everyone feels as they enter this bubble of my world right now to be lasting.  I don't want the bubble to pop but I also want to LIVE in the real world and be present and alive for my children and for Camille's sake.  

My brother rubbing my back.  

Me running my fingers through Lauren's hair

Oh remember remember ... 

Remember and Feel the Chain of Love

A New Reason

I love this picture.  I have a flower in my mind that reminds me of each of my girls.  They each know their flower and why it reminds me of them.  Camille's flower is the tulip.  It is delicate and beautiful and it grows to the light in its own beautiful way.  My sister in law Elizabeth took this photo of a giant vase of tulips that her parents, who are serving as mission presidents in Africa, sent to the funeral.  It is peaceful looking and the drop of water on the stem almost looks like a tear.  It makes me remember the peace inside me, despite the tears.

Today, we went to church.  It was a harder day for me.  I just woke up missing Camille.  Then I had some pretty important talks with our kids about the Lord and His plan for us.  Next we were off to church.  Church was good but I was still just missing wrestling my baby.  Never thought I would miss wresting my nap deprived baby.  But it was good to go.  

I have no doubt most who have read this blog know I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I am devout in my faith.  I had an experience when I was 14 studying my faith for a year and praying to have an answer from God about whether or not this faith my parents had taught me about was real and true.  I got a physical and profound answer that it was in fact true and the Joseph Smith really saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in answer to his prayer to find the true religion.  Since that day, I have tried very hard to live my religion.  I have made my share of mistakes, but my faith has never wavered.  I have found answers when I have needed them.  I have found peace in stormy trials.  I haven't always liked the roads the Lord has led me to travel. But I have traveled them in faith, KNOWING the Lord knew me and loved me and would not allow me to feel any pain that was not necessary for my salvation.  I have had some pretty low points where I didn't understand why the Lord would lead me down a painful and unproductive path.  But I never have doubted that He loved me and was doing what was in my best interest.  Later he has shown me that the path he led me down was the easier of two painful paths.  I trust the Lord implicitly.  Even now.

And I have always been glad to be a member of my church.  First off, I knew from God that this is His church on the earth.  That is really all the reason I need to be an active member.  Second, I owe the Savior my life.  He has paid too big a debt for me for me not to follow Him and obey Him.  Lastly, there are so many social benefits to being a member that I LOVE being a member of my church. 

Now I have a new reason to add to my list of why I am a member of my church.  My church teaches us that families are eternal and the relationships we have on earth can continue in the heavens.  Specifically, God has restored the sealing power Christ gave to Peter to the earth today and families can be sealed together on this earth by one holding that authority.  My husband and I were married in the Las Vegas Temple.  There one with authority from God, sealed my husband and I together not just till death did we part but for time and all eternity. Included in that sealing were all future children we would have.  If we live worthy and pure, Jon and I will be able to raise Camille to her full maturity after the resurrection.  I have always heard this taught at church and felt it was true.  But now it is the foremost reason in my mind to be a member of my church and to live worthy of that blessing.

I am grateful for the faith I have that has been tried and tested through trials.  It is my life line on these hard days.  I have purposefully tried not to be too preachy in this blog thus far.  I would not push my faith on anyone but I will invite all who read to learn more about my faith by visiting www.mormon.org.

Going to church helped me feel better.  Especially meeting with the young women.  Serving helps.  Thank you all again for your prayers, of whatever faith you may be.  I know the Lord loves each of His children here on earth and listens to each prayer uttered.  May we all strive to learn and live His will.  I know the new reason I will be doing just that ...

(For those of you wondering about Sabrina, she is fine.  She was overly exhausted not able to fall asleep as early as necessary and up early for school for too many days.  When that happens she wakes throwing up, throws up all morning then get a good nap and is fine.  Just a funny way her body has of forcing her to rest.  None of the rest of us are feeling queasy.)

Mama Medicine

My hand combing though Lauren's hair at the graveside.

Right now it is not quite 8 am on a Saturday morning.  I woke up to the sounds of Sabrina throwing up.  Normally I would have been way devastated by such a noise.  I know that usually when I hear throwing up sounds, I need to clear my schedule and plan on tending to the sick one while juggling the others and keeping them separated for a day or so till they feel all better.  Today none of the dread that usually accompanies the stomach flu came to me.  Isn't that strange.

Right now Sabrina is asleep next to me in my bed.  She has thrown up pretty much every 30 minutes for about 2 hours now, but it is basically just dry heaving at this point.  She has slept in between.  She is a good patient and doesn't get too upset about throwing up.  (Not like Ann who screams in anger that she can't control her body while flailing her head in all directions.)   Maybe the lack of dread is because it is Sabrina and not Ann who is sick.  But it could be contagious and they all could get it.  So the dread should still be there.  But it isn't.  

Maybe it is not there because my perspective has changed and suddenly having a kid who is sick and will get better seems like a pretty good thing.  Maybe the dread is not there because for the first time in 2 weeks I am really needed and I can help.  There was not much I could do for Camille, try as I did.  There are few things in my life as a stay at home mother that others cannot do for me.  And so many have lovingly helped to do those mundane jobs of the housewife.  

But throwing up kids -- well that is one you don't let other people do unless you are physically totally unable.  First off, you don't want anyone else to get it, especially other people's kids.  And more importantly, kids need their mom when they are sick.  

There is a medicine just in the presence of your mother.  I know, I have had a few doses of that myself recently.  Something about having your mom around just makes you feel better.  She doesn't have to even do anything special.  Just having her near, with her hand on you somewhere, helps.  Thank heaven for mama medicine.  I am glad to be a provider of it today.

Me and my mother at the cemetery after the funeral

Breathe

Some days are harder than others.  Today has been one of those days.  I nearly lost it in the middle of my Pilate's class.  My teacher doesn't know about the accident.  I haven't told her because I wanted some place I could go without everyone knowing my pain.  She gets to see my physical pain every time I go.  She tells me to breathe through it, "Inhale through the nose; exhale through the mouth.  Don't forget to breathe."

"Don't forget to breathe," I remind myself now when the waves of grief crash over me.  "Don't forget to breathe, Stephanie.  You can't just hold your breath forever.  You have to live.  You have little girls to help through this.  You have to breathe."

And eventually the wave subsides and I don't have to remind myself to breathe anymore.  Then I can come sit at my computer and write out my own personal therapy session for all those who love me to come read to discover the answer to that most difficult and mundane question, "how are you?"

Today, my answer  -- I am breathing.

The Little Things

"Goodbye my Little Boo!" I called to Sabrina this morning.  Then I thought, "wait, that is a Camille nickname.  My little peek-a-boo girl."  As parents of multiple children we often call a kid by the wrong name.  Now when I do that it just reminds me of the giant whole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be and the absence of baby clinging to my side or crawling up the stairs.  It is the little things that pierce the deepest.

Here is Lauren finding a program from Camille's funeral and giving it kisses asking me when Camille is coming back to play with us.

I can't open this cupboard without feeling it is too empty without her in it.  I see the chips in the veneer she made with her toes crawling in and out of this so many times.  Now I don't think I ever want to repair that.  Same with her cup drawer.  I wish she were in it every time I see it.

Then there is my ipod.  I loved how happy she get when she would take the earphone and put it up to her ear and bop along to the music.  She would take the earphone away and look at me in amazement then put it back to her ear and smile.  Then she would take the earphone back out and stick it in her mouth to suck on.

Then last night Annie started doing CPR on a bag of marshmallows saying "Breathe!  Come on just Breathe!"  She was joking and playing but it still brought me back to what that day must have been like for my kids seeing their sister limp and blue, seeing their mother pleading with God as she performed CPR, seeing their father crumble in despair trying to keep them out of the way.  I am amazed how well they are dealing with the trauma and the grief.  

I have no doubt the angels in our house are attending to them as they are to me and Jonathan.  If only I had eyes that could see and ears that could hear the workings of the Lord in this house.

Take a minute for me tonight and record the little things your kids do right now.  They don't even need to be cute things.  Someday when your baby is grown you may even miss the food thrown on the ground or the face wiped on the sleeve.  Cherish the little things.  For the little things are the spice in life.